In September 2005 I took a private charter in a Cessna 206 from Nairobi to the Masai Mara game reserve in Kenya with Paveena and some friends. During the flight I got talking to the pilot and having established that I was a keen photographer, he asked me if I would be interested in taking some aerial photographs. While I had always marveled at the African landscape as seen from the air especially when flying low, as one often does in smaller, charted planes, it wasn’t something I had ever given much thought to. When he told me it would be possible to remove both doors at the back right hand side of the aircraft, providing an expansive and flexible view from the plane, I was intrigued.

The next year I returned with Paveena for my first aerial excursion – to the surreal geological formations that constitute Lake Natron, straddling the border between Kenya and Tanzania. As we approached the lake, I was dumbfounded to find a vast, blood-red lake bed, covered with just a few inches of water. Strange mineral deposits dotted the lake, forming mini, atoll reef-like structures. To cap it off, there were hundreds of thousands of Flamingos feeding in the shallow waters with others flying in V-shaped, squadron formations. As they cruised low over the surface waters, the sun cast dark shadows on the mirror-like lake surface with perfect accompanying Flamingo and cloud reflections. The shadows bore a striking resemblance to Pterodactyles and at times I felt as if I had been transported back in time or even to the surface of a distant planet. I can honestly say that for me, it was a life changing experience and aerial photography in East Africa has since become a near decade long addiction.

Since that first expedition, I have made at least one aerial trip in Kenya each year. In the process I have discovered, explored and been overwhelmed by Kenya’s divergent landscapes but it is its soda lakes that I keep coming back to and it is in the far north and south of the country that these are at their most superlative. It took me a long time to start making decent images from the aircraft. One day I will get up in a helicopter, but the cost of doing so remains prohibitive. Compared to a helicopter with its ability to fly at slow speeds and most importantly, hover, photographing from the open doors of a fast flying plane is altogether more challenging. Initially there is the fear factor with only a thin, loosely fastened seat belt (it has to be loose in order for you to turn your body) preventing you from falling out of the plane to a certain death. Turbulence is almost ever present. The plane jerks up and down often making any sort of framing with a camera impossible. An overhead wing, a protruding right-hand side wheel and a tail wing mean that the widest one can shoot without including these elements, is about 25mm. Wind rushes past the fuselage at hurricane force rates, making it unfeasable to extend one’s lenses out the open doors. Forget about lens hoods. Over time I have developed various techniques to use my body as a wind shield to at least partially circumvent this problem. This type of aerial photography is not recommended for those that suffer from motion sickness. I’ve had more than one accompanying friend whose last meal has ended up in the sick-bag. Most of all you need highly skilled pilots. Flying with the doors removed has been described to me by my pilots as akin to driving a car with the hand brake partly engaged. Wind shear in the far north of Kenya can be extreme and for a light aircraft, potentially fatal. I would be lying if I denied that my heart has not felt it was in my throat a few times as we have approached a dusty airstrip with the plane careering erratically and seemingly destined for a catastrophic ending. But my trust in their abilities is 100% and all my excursion have been incident free; so a big shout out to Peter and Christian.

From a photographic perspective, you need to consider the sun’s orientation. There’s no point flying north in the morning as you’ll have the sun in your face if you are shooting out the right side of the plane. The biggest issue however, is simply that the aircraft travels fast and the closer to the ground, the greater the apparent speed. With experience I have found that you need to be in a state of high alert at all times. You have to be constantly looking forward with your head very slightly out the door (yes, this will feel like you have placed your head into a scientifically generated wind tunnel) carefully scanning ahead and below for upcoming features and action. When you spot something, you have literally a few seconds to a) decide on which camera/lens combination you will use; b) dial in the appropriate level of exposure compensation and c) frame and compose the image. I can assure you, this is not easy. While there are lots of occasions for working in manual exposure, this is not one of them. Trust me on this. If one second you are photographing light or even white coloured sodium formations and the next, white and pink winged flamingos over a medium coloured background, it is far easier to work in AV and use your thumb to dial in compensation (in this case from around +1 and 2/3 to -1 and 2/3, or ten clicks of the wheel). At the soda lakes, where one is typically flying in circular patterns, the sun’s orientation to the aircraft is constantly changing (unless at noon), again obviating the use of manual exposure. Since the very first flight, I have used two camera bodies, secured these days around my neck by Black Rapid camera straps, and typically comprising a full frame camera body with a 24-105mm IS lens and then a cropped sensor camera with a 70-200mm IS lens, sometime in use with a 1.4x converter. For the first lens, you’ll need shutter speeds of at least 1,000th sec. For the second lens, at least 2,000th sec. You can shoot with very large apertures (eg. f4) as depth of field is not an issue when shooting from the air at large distances. There is usually plenty of light meaning that most of the time you can shoot at ISOs of 400 to 500 and still have plenty of shutter speed. If it is cloudy, then you might have to go up to 800-1,000 but with today’s cameras, this is not an issue. Occasionally on the wider lens I will use a circular polarizer.

Like any subject that one photographs regularly, you start to develop an interest in it. For the soda lakes and the Flamingos, it wasn’t long before I was asking basic questions such as: how did the soda lakes form? what are they composed of? what are the strange lake bed colours and geological patterns that I was seeing? why were these patterns, formations and colours ever changing? why did the flamingos have the lakes pretty much to themselves? etc. While my knowledge is far from complete, over time I have build up a rudimentary understanding of the soda lake environment and its primary inhabitant.

I don’t want to bore you with a long winded account so I will try to summarise things briefly and clearly. East Africa’s soda lakes lie within the Great Rift Valley, a fault line that stretches over 6,000 kms from Lebanon to Mozambique and which has formed a vast valley in which numerous lakes, escarpments and volcanoes exist. The soda lakes were formed at a time when the valley floor was covered in volcanic ash, heavily composed of sodium carbonate. Rain water carried this chemical and other mineral salts into rivers which in turn flowed into the newly formed lakes. The lakes had no outlet source and with oven-like temperatures around many of the lakes, the dissolved minerals accumulated and were concentrated through evaporation. This produced various sodium and phosphate compounds, the most important of which were sodium bicarbonate and sodium hydroxide. It is these compounds that give the lakes their high alkaline content and when concentrated in the extreme, can result in waters that are highly corrosive to human flesh.

Aerial image of Ol Doinyo Lengai volcano, Tanzania. This is an active volcano on the south east shore of Lake Natron. On contact with rain or moisture in the air, the lava is transformed into sodium carbonate. Much of this ends up being transported by rain water flowing down the heavily eroded sides into the lake helping to give the waters their unique alkaline characteristics.

Ancient volcanic calderas, Seguta Valley, Northern Kenya. The Seguta Valley was once part of Lake Turkana but is now separated by a formidable volcanic ridge. Evidence of historic volcanic activity is ever present along the entire valley. It is inaccessible by vehicle and few humans are ever likely to have traversed the parched lands. It truly feels like the land that time forgot.

The caldera of Nabuyatom volcano on the southern shore of Lake Turkana, Northern Kenya. This is a spectacular, uneroded caldera flanked by black lava. Lake Turkana is often referred to as the “Jade Sea” for the dazzling green shades that its waters take on in the mid-day sun.

At sunset, Turkana’s waters can take on altogether different colours. In this next image, wind blowing across the lake surface has imparted a textile-like quality to the waters.

Aerial image of lake water patterns at sunset on the shore of Lake Turkana, Kenya

Aerial image of the Seguta River and the ancient remains of an eroded caldera, Seguta Valley, Kenya. The Seguta River winds its way up the Seguta valley, snaking past numerous volcanic features and terminates in an alluvial delta at the southern shore of Lake Logipi. The river is often dry for parts of the year but here it is full and the surrounding vegetation indicates recent rains.

Aerial view of sand dunes in the Seguta Velley, Kenya. Despite the river, parts of the Seguta Valley are so dry that small areas of beautiful sand dunes have formed.

Rain erosion patterns, Seguta Valley, Kenya. This image was taken less than 10 kms from the sand dunes and highlights the diversity of landscapes that can be found in the valley.

This is the delta formed by the Southern Ewaso Ng’iro River as it drains into Lake Natron. The lake water at this end marks the border between Kenya and Tanzania

Aerial view of the same river delta on Lake Natron shot from the other direction. Evaporation has caused sodium compounds to form on the delta shore while evaporated sodium trails are evident on the lake surface. Cloud reflections can be seen on the lower left.

The mineral concentrations vary from lake to lake and rainfall patterns and temperatures are other catalysts. With furnace-like temperatures, evaporation rates can be extreme and some of the lakes look dramatically different from month to month depending on rainfall patterns. Lake Natron and Logipi are prime examples of this. The following three images show Cathedral Rock, a volcanic structure that sits within the northern reaches of Lake Logipi. Each was taken on a different occasion over the course of 18 months.

High water – Cathedral Rock in Lake Logipi, Kenya with algae slick and Lesser Flamingos

Cathedral Rock in dry lake bed, Lake Logipi, Kenya. Here, only a small patch of water remains in the lake. It is still sufficient to attract sizeable groupings of Flamingos. The dry, saline lake bed is blindingly white in some areas and the heat reflected off it can be clearly felt even at a height of several hundred meters. This is an environment that is hostile in an extreme sense. Yet the Flamingos thrive in it.

Aerial image of Lesser Flamingos flying over shallow water lake, Lake Logipi, Kenya. Cathedral Rock can just be made out in the top right of the image. As in the previous image, only small bodies of water remain but these still host huge congregations of Flamingos

High water – Lake Natron during the rainy season in May, showing Mount Shompole (Kenya) in the distance. The still waters create an almost perfect mirror of the sky.

Shallow water – The scene that greeted me on my very first aerial excursion to Lake Natron during the dry season – a blood red lake bed with a very thin covering of lake water

A large portion of Lake Natron and portions of Lake Logipi are relatively dry for much of the year or are covered with just a thin layer of water. The lake bed underneath is made up of a brittle crust of sodium bicarbonate that lies over a bed of thick, gooey mud. The combination of the corrosive waters, searing temperatures and a lake bed that simply cannot be traversed by mammals, means that this is an environment that is alien to almost all life forms. Yet Flamingos have made this ecosystem their home and have positively thrived in this hostile landscape. They share the soda lakes with just a few plant, fish and crustacean species which have adapted to the challenging conditions and by far the most abundant is a microscopic algae species which has evolved perfectly to withstand the harsh conditions and which breeds in prodigious numbers. It is this algae that forms the primary food source for the Flamingos. The lake beds contain huge numbers of the microscopic algae and it is the algae that help to impart the vivid colours that often characterize the lake beds. These same carotenoid pigments in the algae are broken down by enzymes in the bird’s liver to give the Flamingos their distinctive pink colouration.

Aerial image of a small group of Lesser Flamingos flying over the dry lake bed of Lake Natron, Tanzania. The sodium bicarbonate crust is infused with vast quantities of a microscopic algae that produces a carotenoid pigment resulting in the vivid red colours. Depending on water levels and mineral concentrations, these colours can evolve into different shades.

Mineral concentrations on Lake Logipi are not as intense as in Lake Natron and the sodium bicarbonate crust is less evident. Instead, the shallow waters lie over a coating of silt, which in turn sits on top of a thick layer of blue black, viscous mud. When the Flamingos walk through the waters and silt, black trails in the mud are revealed.

Aerial image of Lesser and Greater Flamingos and trails on shallow water lake, Lake Logipi, Kenya

Aerial image of Lesser Flamingos flying over shallow water lake with mud trails visible through the silt, Lake Logipi, Kenya

Lesser Flamingos are not wedded to any one soda lake and will move from lake to lake searching for optimal conditions. The birds will sometimes travel large distances, to Ethiopia, South Africa, Namibia, Botswana and Mauritania in West Africa. Smaller populations can also be found on occasion in North West India. Sometimes the birds will favour one lake during the day and then roost on another at night before returning to the original lake the next day. In Flamingo Crater Lake on Central Island in Lake Turkana, this is precisely what happens. In early 2011, I spent three blisteringly hot days in this crater waiting for the birds to lift off at the end of day, after which they would fly a few times around the crater rim before departing.

Central Island is not far from Lake Logipi and it is likely that this is where the birds would go each night.

Lesser flamingos flying over Lake Logipi, Kenya

As a photographer, I have found myself increasingly drawn to the painterly, abstract patterns of the soda lake beds and shores. If ever art can be found in nature, these are surely primary examples.

Aerial image of sodium bicarbonate and hydroxide crust patterns on Lake Natron, Tanzania. The distinctive colours are produced by vast quantities of algae within the chemical compounds.

Aerial image of sodium deposits on the lake bed of Lake Natron, Tanzania

WTF! seriously, this is nature and not an artist’s canvas. I’ve always thought that any artist suffering from artist block or simply lacking inspiration should take an aerial flight over some of the world’s soda lakes. This is Lake Logipi in northern Kenya.

Sodium deposits on top of the sodium bicarbonate crust lining the bed of Lake Natron. I love these abstract patterns. Here they look like strings of pearls.

More weird and wonderful lake bed patterns formed by sodium and phosphate deposits with colouring provided by the algae, Lake Natron, Tanzania

As a photographer, I’ve always been attracted to bands of colour. The shore line on Lake Natron serves up opportunities in abundance.

More mineral deposits and colour bands on the shore of Lake Natron

Sodium bicarbonate & sodium hydroxide infused with microscopic algae on the delta waters at the edge of Lake Natron, Tanzania

Concentrations of mineral deposits often form small islands on Lake Natron. From the air, these islands have an oil painting quality about them. The reflections of clouds on the dark, still lake surface adds to the artistic impression.

One of the more unusual features of the soda lakes is that the searing temperatures around the lake result in high evaporation rates. From the air this sometimes gives the appearance that the lake shore and lake bed are disintegrating. In turn, this produces some wonderfully photographic patterns, many with a surreal abstract quality.

Sometimes huge blooms of algae can cover vast sections of a soda lake such as in this instance on Lake Bogoria.

Aerial image of Flamingos flying over algae bloom, Lake Bogoria, Kenya. Can you make out the partial outline of some of the world’s continents?

When conditions are right on the lakes, specifically: the water is shallow, the alkaline content of the water and the concentrations of algae, high, East Africa’s soda lakes can draw staggeringly large Flamingo numbers. Flocks of over a million birds have been recorded, easily the largest gathering of an inland water bird on our planet.

Aerial image of hundreds of Greater and Lesser Flamingos feeding in the shallow waters of Lake Logipi, Kenya

Aerial image of hundreds of Lesser Flamingos feeding in the shallow waters of Lake Logipi, Kenya

Lake Natron is one of the few soda lakes in Africa where Flamingos breed on a regular basis. The birds build nests out of mud in locations where it can be easily extracted between the plates of the sodium bicarbonate crust, typically out in the middle of the lake where no four or two legged predators can venture.

The Flamingos become sexually mature at seven years and like Albatrosses (my other favorite avian species), they usually pair for life. The female lays a single egg and they form large colonies such that breeding takes place en masse. There is no fixed time table to the breeding but it is usually in dry periods which facilitate nest building. Only about 20% of breeding adults mate and lay eggs in any one year. 20% can still add up to considerable numbers. Two weeks after hatching, the chicks migrate in large groupings, usually led by a single adult, across the scorching lake bed to the shore where there are a permanent fresh water lagoons. In early 2011, one of my aerial excursions fortuitously coincided with this event. I was only vaguely aware of this behavior mainly through the incredible “Crimson Wing” documentary (surely one of the finest wildlife documentaries ever produced) and could not believe my luck when I realized what was unfolding beneath me.

The juvenile Flamingos lack the pink and red colouration of their parents and this is only gradually acquired over time following prolonged algae ingestion.

Juvenile Lesser and Greater flamingos together with a single Lesser Flamingo adult, Lake Bogoria, Kenya

Lake Nakuru, Elementatia and to a lesser extent, Lake Bogoria are set in more temperate surroundings without the searing temperatures and high evaporation rates of Natron and Logipi and hence have lower mineral concentrations. These temperate lakes do not serve as breeding grounds and hence the predatory risk to chicks is a non-issue. However, for the adults and juveniles, it is a different story. Baboons have adapted to catch Flamingos in the fresh water streams of Bogoria and in Nakuru the threat comes from Hyenas.

Spotted Hyena running along the shore, Lake Nakuru, Kenya

The Hyena’s strategy for hunting Flamingos appears haphazard. They simply charge into the water towards large groups of the birds. There is however, method to their apparent madness. The Flamingos are alert and a healthy bird can comfortably take flight. On the other hand, while most of these chases culminate in failure on the part of the Hyena, there is always the chance that a sick or injured bird will not be able to escape in time.

Hyena with flamingo kill, Lake Nakuru, Kenya. With the entire lake shore and large portions of the surrounding Yellow Fever Acacia forest currently flooded due to three years of abundant rainfall (human encroachment and forest clearance has added to the high waters), the lake has been largely devoid of Flamingos for the last three years and it may be a long time before we again witness this type of predatory behavior at Lake Nakuru.

From the air, large groupings of Flamingos sometimes briefly form patterns and shapes that resemble other animals or symbols. These are usually fleeting and so it helps to be alert to them and be able to react quickly with a camera.

The Elephant Seal

The Shrew

Africa

Devil’s tail

Love heart

The tear

Flamingos are large birds and require a running start to take flight.

Lesser Flamingo running in shallow water to take flight, Lake Nakuru, Kenya.

Shot backlit from the air, Flamingos leave behind artistic water trails as they run to take flight on the shallow waters of Lake Logipi.

The birds often fly low over the lake waters, in V-shaped formations, reminiscent of bomber squadrons.

Greetings

In Lake Bogoria and especially on Lake Nakuru, Lesser Flamingos engage in dazzling pre-breeding displays. The spectacle starts with a group of a few birds. Neck and tail feathers are raised as an invitation for other birds to join in and sometimes hundreds join the communal dance. Packed tightly together, some engage in “fencing” with their bills; others thrust their necks and heads skyward while others bend their necks to extreme angles so that their heads rest against their breasts. The birds march in a synchronized fashion at times moving through the shallow waters at a leisurely pace before abruptly speeding up, often with sudden directional changes.

Lesser flamingo in early morning light, on the lookout for potential “dance partners”, Lake Nakuru, Kenya

In the early morning mist, a small group come together to engage in bill “fencing”, Lake Nakuru, Kenya

The dance ritual begins

The group begins to move at a fast pace through the shallow waters with ritualistic bill fencing taking place, Lake Nakuru, Kenya

The groups steadily get larger. If you sit or better still, lie on the edge of the lake, the Flamingos will eventually come reasonably close. As with all avian species that are on the ground, getting onto your belly with the lens on the dirt, will result in much more pleasing images

The courting birds can swell to several hundred. Moving in a highly synchronized fashion, it is a mesmerising spectacle. Lake Nakuru, Kenya

The dance rituals can occur at any time of the day. This is at dusk with the image taken using a slow shutter speed and flash. Lake Bogoria, Kenya

Lesser Flamingos are more numerous in East Africa than Greater Flamingos although the latter are much more widespread globally. The Greater Flamingos are larger, have more vivid wing colouration, have a pink versus a brown bill and are able to feed on small fish and crustaceans that have adapted to the lake environments. All in all, they are prettier and more photogenic.

Greater Flamingo, Lake Magadi, Central Serengeti, Tanzania

Aerial image of Greater Flamingos in late afternoon sunlight, walking through the shallow waters of Lake Natron, Tanzania

The soda lake environments continue to fascinate me. Harsh, beautiful and outer worldly are adjectives that cannot often be used in the same sentence but these sum up the lakes. However, it is their charismatic avian residents that complete the picture of wonder. How these birds have adapted to the severe conditions is a triumph of natural evolution. Viewed from the air, the lakes provide a visual overload that from my experience is unmatched on our planet. Like drugs, aerial photography is not a cheap addiction to have developed but I can take comfort that at the end of my life it will be these “highs” that will be amongst my most treasured experiences.

I began this blog back in early March and finished about 70% of it by mid-March. For various reasons, mainly work commitments and laziness, it has since lain dormant gathering cyberspace dust. Anyway, I have finally got around to finishing it – I suppose better late than never. It is long but that reflects the many different destinations we visited and the numerous photo opportunities that we were presented with.

In February I was back in Japan for my annual Hokkaido winter wonderland sojourn. Normally I’ve made this trip alone or with just two or three guests. This time I co-led a group of seven photographers along with legendary bird photographer, Arthur Morris and the hyper-creative, Denise Ippolito. When you accompany other photographers you never quite know what you are going to get but I am happy to report that the group turned out to be just about perfect – some of the nicest people you could possibly hope to meet. I love Japan’s culture but for those visiting Japan for the first time, elements of it can be frustrating and challenging. Fortunately everyone coped well and for the most part fully embraced the culture. The absence of dramas on this front was mirrored in the trip’s logistics – a good job since this was my primary responsibility. To be fair, this would not have been possible without the standing and connections of our Japanese guide and host in Hokkaido. This ensured that we had maximum flexibility in what and where we photographed, something that other photographic groups almost certainly do not have, despite what they may tell you. He and his wife have also become good friends; this being the fifth year that I have worked with them. A special shout-out must go to Shinobu for her incredible cuisine. Despite the far reaching dietary requirements of some of our party, Shinobu never ceased to amaze with her incredible culinary skills.

The Japanese are often sticklers for detail and tradition and this can sometimes lead to inflexibility and an inability to see the woods from the trees (I should add that this certainly does not apply to our hosts). But this is all overshadowed by their unfailingly charming hospitality; unrivalled politeness; mouth-watering food and presentation and for photographers, breathtaking scenery and a smorgasbord of superb wildlife.

Flight of the eagles

After overnighting in Tokyo, we flew to south-eastern Hokkaido, drove to our ideally located lodging (none of the soulless budget hotels that some other groups stay at) and were photographing within an hour. On the first afternoon we concentrated on White-Tailed Eagles and Black Kites which are attracted to a daily fish feeding. Although not my favorite location owing to the crowds of photographers that gather here, there’s no denying that if you want nice images of the eagles in flight, this is the place to go.

White-Tailed Eagle and Crow in flight, Eastern Hokkaido, Japan

White-Tailed Eagle about to snatch fish, Eastern Hokkaido, Japan

White-Tailed Eagle snatching fish, Eastern Hokkaido, Japan

The crane attraction

For anyone visiting Eastern Hokkaido in winter, there’s no question that the prime attraction has to be the courting Red-Crowned Cranes. Once thought to be extinct in Japan due to demand for their feathers, they have been nursed back from the brink helped by conservation efforts and grain feeding during the winter months such that their numbers are now up to 1,200. So emblematic and charismatic are the birds, known locally as tancho, that they have become a national symbol in Japan. All are resident in a small area in eastern Hokkaido. For most of the year they are hidden deep within marshland but for two months in winter, they emerge to a few select snow-covered fields where they forage for grain and perform spectacular courtship dances. In the same vain as Albatrosses which have also perfected ritualized dancing, the poetic displays by the cranes are of special significance as they also mate for life. The atmosphere and mood from a photographic standpoint at the crane fields can change dramatically depending on the weather conditions and falling snow is the perfect ingredient. In contrast to the main Japanese Island of Honshu further south, this year has seen unusually light snowfalls in Hokkaido, leaving many of its undulating hills, normally blanketed in deep powder, bereft and brown. For the week prior to arriving in Japan, I would scan the weather forecast every day only to see nothing but fine weather forecast – not just for a few days but for two straight weeks. However, on the day before departure, a forecast for a few cms of snow began to appear about 4 days into our trip. As this day approached the magnitude of the predicted snow fall began to build until a substantial 16cms was forecast over a 24 hour period. We woke on the morning of the 16th to find white-out conditions, with all the roads closed. Given our lodge’s proximity to the main Crane field, this wasn’t a problem for us and for much of the day we had the luxury of the photography perimeter almost entirely to ourselves. The Cranes not surprisingly, were late in leaving their overnight roosts on the nearby rivers but slowly they began to arrive along with a handful of Whooper Swans. Initially it was hard to discern whether any birds had actually arrived given the white-out conditions and it is a wonder that I managed to make this next image when you see the raw file, an unaltered jpg of which I have provided below.

Red-Crowned Cranes in snow blizzard, Eastern Hokkaido, Japan

Raw file of the previous image!

Some of the credit must go to the amazing auto-focus capabilities of the Canon 1DX, which I had splashed out for prior to this trip. For a number of years I have been perfectly happy with my 1D MK4, used in conjunction initially with the 5D MK2 and then later with the MK3. The 1D MK4 is a fine camera but the 1DX is on a completely different level. The blazingly fast frame rate with a buffer that never seems to fill regardless of the number of frames one shoots in a single burst, is an obvious attraction. However, it is the autofocus, long an issue in previous Canon DSLRs, that really elevates this camera. It is soooo good. Often I used it with all 61 focus points activated and the number of out of focus images was so low as to be almost ridiculous. It’s ability to pick up contrast even when the human eye is struggling can be illustrated in the two images above.

While heavy snow continued to fall, the visibility gradually lifted and the next image was taken about 45 minutes after the ones above.

Red-Crowned Cranes walking over the crest of an undulating snow-covered field as snow falls, Eastern Hokkaido, Japan

What everyone wants though are the dancing Cranes. However, seeing the Cranes dance and actually making pleasing images, are quite far removed from each other. For starters, the dancing happens very sporadically. An hour or even longer can go by with minimal activity. Then suddenly, one pair will go at it and this seems to trigger other pairs leading to a short burst of frantic activity. More often than not though, the dancing pairs are annoyingly obscured or partly so by other Cranes and achieving separation is a major challenge. Then there is the issue of the background, which on clear days provides few windows of relatively uniform, blurred backdrops. Knowing where to stand helps as is a little luck in terms of getting an eye-level view of the Cranes without the horizon level cutting through the birds – a big pet peeve of mine. But what you really need are days of low visibility and this typically only occurs when it snows. The 16th of February provided near perfect conditions for this.

Red-Crowned Crane courtship dance, Eastern Hokkaido, Japan

Red Crowned Crane courtship dance, Hokkaido, Japan

In the afternoon, the snow eased off and visibility increased bringing the background into play. But with continued nice dull light and periodic bouts of frantic dancing, there were still plenty of photo opportunities.

Red Crowned Cranes courtship dance #3, Hokkaido, Japan

I have lots of Crane portrait shots taken over the years but I rarely process any on the grounds that they’re easy to take and everybody else has them, but this one, using a high-key technique where you deliberately over-expose the image (taught to me a few years ago by Artie), kind of appeals to me.

Red-Crowned Crane portrait, high-key, Hokkaido, Japan

Fast shutter speed images of Cranes flying sort of fall into the same category as portraits – they don’t really rock my boat. But I will make a few exceptions for instance where the birds are flying and landing in falling snow…

…and this next one which given the busy background, would normally go straight to the trash can. However, somehow the combination of the orange leaves and the monochromatic tones throughout the rest of the image serve to give this a Japanese painterly feel.

Red-Crowned Crane flying past tree, Hokkaido, Japan

But I much prefer flight images which show motion, usually achieved by panning and slowing down the shutter speed. Not only are they more aesthetically pleasing, but when one is using shutter speeds of 1/20th second or less, they are harder to take when the goal is to try and get a reasonably sharp head. It’s always more rewarding when one of these types of images works vs the easy, sharp, fast shutter speed flight shot.

Red Crowned Crane flying, with motion, Hokkaido, Japan

Red-Crowned Crane landing, with motion, Hokkaido, Japan

And sometimes even crazy images can work. Here I was set up to shoot with a slow shutter speed and I continued to pan and shoot even when the birds flew behind the trees. Again, you have to wonder how the camera held focus!

Red-Crowned Cranes flying behind trees, with motion, Hokkaido, Japan

Swan Lake

My favorite destination in Eastern Hokkaido is Lake Kussharo. When we took a poll at the end of the trip on participants’ most and least favorite site, Lake Kussharo scored lowest or close to the bottom of the list on almost everyone’s list apart from mine. I still can’t quite figure this out. Maybe it was because everyone is attracted to the large iconic Cranes and Sea Eagles or maybe it was because I was the only participant who given a choice, will always shoot wide-angle before telephoto. This is an important consideration because while the Whooper Swans are pretty enough, it is the backdrop that is the big attraction and to capture this you need to be shooting fairly wide or at least with a shortish zoom lens. I certainly would have preferred to spend more than a day and a half at the lake but we were still blessed with great photo opportunities. We stayed away for the most part from the most popular site along the lake instead focusing on various lesser known ones. For one of these, I have never encountered a single other photographer in five years of travelling to Lake Kussharo. On the first morning while the rest of the group were enjoying spectacular opportunities at one of my favorite sites, I went off on my own to quickly reconnoiter my go-to early morning destination. This is very much a wide-angle site and I always try to capture the mix of solitude and frozen silence with a Japanese twist – provided by the overhanging tree branches. I also prefer to leave the cool blue tones of the scene intact.

Whooper Swan at dawn, Lake Kussharo, Japa

In the evening, I took the group to another of my favorite spots, which we again had to ourselves. I have experienced all sorts of weather conditions here but in the late afternoon, we were blessed with a beautiful sunset with the colours reflected on the frozen lake opening. Five-stops of graduated neutral density helped to balance the foreground and background lighting differences.

Whooper Swan on frozen lake opening, Lake Kussharo, Hokkaido, Japan

Whooper Swans landing on frozen lake, Lake Kussharo, Hokkaido, Japan

I didn’t completely abandon my long lenses. This is with the 600mm and the 2x. A nice image that is all about the curve of the neck.

Whooper Swan close-up, Lake Kussharo, Hokkaido, Japan

It is in these sorts of situations that Artie Morris really comes into his own. He has one abstract-like image of the top of a Swan’s head with tufted orange-tinged feathers that is absolutely killer and in my book, a guaranteed contest winner.

Minimalistic landscapes

With the fixation on the admittedly spectacular wildlife, many groups overlook Eastern Hokkaido’s dreamy landscapes. Because of the paucity of snow, landscape photography was more challenging this year but with patience and a few trained eyes, we were able to ferret out a few good possibilities. As I have written before, it is very hard not to be influenced by the stark, minimalistic style landscapes made famous by Michael Kenna. This first image could easily have come from him. The difference of course is that his (small-sized) gallery prints sell for several thousand dollars.

Larch trees, Eastern Hokkaido, Japan

The focus doesn’t just have to be on isolated trees, appealing as these are. While photographing one of my favorite groups of trees, I notice this fence some distance away. I walked a long way around the two accessible sides of the fence but could never quite find the right perspective I was looking for – hence my decision to settle for a square crop.

Fence on sloping snow-covered field, Eastern Hokkaido, Japan

Pack-ice wonders

After the Swans , we journeyed to our next destination and for some in the group, the blue-ribbon species of the trip: Steller’s Sea Eagles. This eagle, with its large distinctive orange bill, is the heaviest eagle on our planet and second only to the Harpy and Philippine Eagle in size. In February and parts of March, they gather in large numbers on the pack ice in the Sea of Okhotsk, near to the fishing port of Rousu on the Shiretoko Peninsular, attracted to regular fish feeding, for the benefit in part, of photographers. When conditions are right, the snow covered, forested mountains behind the fishing port provide a beautiful backdrop for the Stellers which are joined by even greater numbers of White-Tailed Eagles.

Steller’s Sea Eagles and White-Tailed Eagles on pick-ice outside of the port of Rausu, Hokkaido, Japan

One of the problems with taking images from a largish boat in these conditions is that you are usually looking down at the pack-ice, which tends to be cluttered and interspersed with pockets of water. Hence, unless you are shooting wide-angle or very tight with long telephoto lenses, you can end up with unattractive backgrounds. I am always on the look-out for small ice pinnacles which the birds will often use as perches. Since even these are of limited elevation, I try to get as low on the deck as possible to create a clean background. The other point is to anticipate the action. An empty pinnacle will invariably attract an Eagle. It is usually easier to pre-focus on the pinnacle and wait for the bird to arrive. Since I can’t be sure the bird will arrive parallel to the camera, I don’t however, like to rely on manual pre-focus. Instead I pre-focus but stay in auto-focus and rely on all 61-points of the 1DX to pick-up the action.

On our last morning out on the pack-ice, the crew left an exposed crate of frozen fish out on the foredeck for a few minutes. This quickly attracted a veritable army of hungry gulls, mainly Slaty-Backed and Glaucous-Winged. At times it looked like a scene out of a Hitchcock movie (without the human gore). Seeing an opportunity I quickly switched to a fish-eye lens shooting at almost point-blank range. You need to take a lot of frames in the hope that in one or two you will have some degree of separation between the gulls.

Fish-eye view of Slaty-Backed and Glaucous-Winged Gulls over the pack-ice, Sea of Okhotsk, Hokkaido, Japan

Monkey business

And so it was goodbye to Hokkaido for another year. Instead of going home, this year I was continuing on with the group to the Japanese Macaques, commonly known as Snow Monkeys, in Central Honshu. I first visited these charismatic monkeys in 2008 and have since been back in all but one of the subsequent years. The monkeys themselves probably don’t justify such regular trips but it is the combination of the charming ryoken that I stay at with its incredible food and a choice of 11 separate indoor and outdoor onsens that is just as much a draw card. That and the fact that it’s relatively easy to get to from Hong Kong.

Anyway, this year I had previously made an additional trip in January with my wife and daughter. In part this was to set up everything for the group in February but also because in January, you have a much better chance of falling snow. The following images are a tiny selection of those that I took over the two trips but I certainly had better opportunities on the first trip, helped by the weather with one of the days seeing heavy snow fall.

When one goes to Jigokudani, it’s important to bring a few different lenses in order to shoot a variety of images. The following were shot with a 16-35mm, a 24-105mm, a 70-200mm (sometimes with a 1.4x TC) and a 100mm macro. Most were also made with a little fill flash. Some nature photographers don’t like using fill flash but with light levels often low, I find a little fill flash really helps to bring out the details in the wonderfully expressive faces of the monkeys. Most photographers understandably spend most of their time photographing the monkeys in the outdoor onsen but there are always opportunities in some of the neighboring areas.

The first two images were taken in almost the same spot but the first one was taken at the end of February and the second in mid-January. Note the differences in snow cover. This year was unusual insofar as the first half of February saw two large snowfalls, the first one of which dumped so much snow on the area that the park was closed for three days.

Japanese Macaque standing on the edge of outdoor hot spring, Jigokudani, Japan

Japanese Macaque shaking its fur of snow and water in outdoor hot spring, Jigokudani, Japan

Japanese Macaque standing in the snow, Jigokudani, Japan

Japanese Macaque running through snow, Jigokudani, Japan

OK this next image might look slightly familiar and there’s no question that it was inspired by Jasper Doest’s wonderful image from a few years ago which garnered many awards. Jasper’s image has the eyes shut to highlight the eye-shadow like colouring of the eyelids. This one has the eyes open and you can see the use of flash to open up the shadows. I used a 70-200mm lens with 25mm of extension tube to enable closer focusing.

Japanese Macaque face close-up with head fur covered in snow, Jigokudani, Japan

The monkey’s faces are incredibly photogenic; not just for their myriad of expressions but also for their rich colouring.

Adult Japanese Macaque. sleeping, portrait, Jigokudani, Japan

Japanese Macaque sleeping, Jigokudani, Japan

The next image was taken with a macro lens with the emphasis on the water droplets on the whiskers.

Japanese Macaque mouth and nose close-up, Jigokudani, Japan

A narrow but fast flowing river flows through Jigokudani and the Monkeys will sometimes leap across it. Unfortunately in the last year, the park staff have built a small wooden bridge which the clever monkeys now largely use, in turn restricting natural crossings (imagine if they built bridges across the Mara River for the Wildebeest and Zebras to use during their migration). Anyway, a friendly group of South African photographers received permission to temporally block the bridge, thereby necessitating a return to natural crossings. With lots of rocks in the river and with the opposite river bank coming into play from most angles, careful positioning was essential to ensuring as clean a background as possible.

Juvenile Japanese Macaque jumping across river, Jigokudani, Japan

By late February the sun is sufficiently high at midday that it covers an entire snow-covered slope on one side of the river. Grain is periodically dispensed onto this hill and the Monkeys happily take advantage of both the food and the warmth provided by the sun. I took several images over the course of the second trip and here I got lucky with the monkeys evenly dispersed and with minimal overlap.

While the Monkeys are clearly the main attraction at Jigokudani, there are other photographic possibilities if one looks a little harder. For the first image a tripod was essential with a long shutter speed required (1/8th sec) to slow the movement of the water but one that was not too slow to lose all of the detail.

Water flowing past rock and ice, Jigokudani, Japan

I noticed the snow patterns below as I was leaving the park on the first day of the second tour. The light was low and the interplay between light and shadow was especially attractive. But I was cold and running late and a little lazy so I passed assuming that I would have the same opportunities the following day. Lesson #1 in photography. If you see an attractive image, take it as it likely will not last. Sure enough the next day the lighting conditions in both the early morning and late afternoon never approached those of the first day. I did my best and this is not bad but trust me when I tell you that the contrast was much more attractive on the first day.

Snow patterns, Jigokudani, Japan

Kyoto – classic Japan

From Jigokudani, most of the group continued on to Kyoto via bus and high-speed train. Kyoto is what most people imagine Japan to be in their imaginations – colourful Shinto shrines, sublime Zen gardens, delicate plum and peach blossoms, quiet temples and narrow alleys down which geisha girls can be glimpsed. There are photo possibilities at every corner and even die-hard wildlife photographers rarely fail to be inspired.

But with millions of images already captured of the city’s iconic sites, the trick as always is to try and take something different and the following are an exercise in this pursuit.

We began the first morning, in the rain, at arguably Kyoto’s most visually arresting spectacle – the Fushimi Inari Taisha shrine. Thousands of Shinto orange coloured shrine gates line paths that criss-cross the mountains overlooking southeast Kyoto. And at one point these gates form a giant winding, orange tunnel. The first image is a fairly standard shot of this spectacular tunnel but even here, a little imagination was necessary as this is in fact, three images blended together, with the focusing slightly different on each in order to ensure foreground to background sharpness something that would be impossible even at a very small aperture given the 70mm focal length.

…but this is the really funky one. An in-camera, 5-frame, radial zoom blur: the acid tunnel.

Radial zoom blur of the tunnel formed by shrine gates at Fushimi-Inari-Taisha, Kyoto, Japan

Although it was raining heavily, I decided to explore the entire 5kms shrine complex that snakes its way through the swirling mist to the top of the mountain. On the way down, my eye caught the single black character on this shrine gate juxtaposed against the rectangular monochrome steps in the background.

The retina-burning Kinkaku-Ji temple bears some similarities to the more famous Golden Temple in Armritsar, India and when you arrive through the main entrance, this is the sight that greets you. While the overhanging tree branches are a nice twist, every single visitor to this site will have taken a similar image.

Kinkaku-ji temple, Kyoto, Japan

But few will have taken this much more original and imaginative image.

Zoom blur of Kinkaku-ji temple, Kyoto, Japan

Another of my favorite Kyoto spots where I took our group in the early morning on two consecutive days was the bamboo forest in the suburb of Arashiyama. Here’s a straightforward image using focus stacking to ensure front to back sharpness. It’s OK but certainly nothing special.

Bamboo grove, Arashiyama, Kyoto, Japan

This is a little more imaginative – the camera was on a tripod a few inches from the ground. A fish-eye lens was used to include as many bamboo stems as possible.

Bamboo grove fish-eye, Arashiyama, Kyoto, Japan

But this next image is the shot I was after and is without doubt my favorite image from the trip. The secret behind it was having been to this location before. I had taken similar images but never quite got it right. The key was finding a part of the grove that had several different shades shades of colour, zooming in to avoid all distractions and using a slow shutter speed while panning slowly in a vertical motion. But the most important ingredient was the use of a little fill flash. This helped to being out some of the detail in the bamboo while still retaining a sense of motion.

Bamboo forest, Arashiyama, Kyoto, Japan

The images shown here represent only a small portion taken on what was an enormously successful trip. The success of the trip would not have been possible without the amazing teaching skills of Arthur Morris and Denise Ippolito. But what really made the tour so enjoyable, for me anyway, was the excellent attitude displayed by all group members and the camaraderie that developed early on into the trip. Here’s hoping next year’s tour will be equally successful.

I didn’t do as much photography this year as in previous ones so not surprisingly, I don’t think I got that many quality shots. However, I thought I would recap a few of the highlights.

As usual I made a a very short trip in January to the Snow Monkeys in Central Honshu in Japan. I have lots of nice Monkey images but I thought I’d show a landscape image since you don’t see too many of these at this location. The key here was a tungsten white balance setting to emphasis the cool blue hues. That together with the symmetry of the rocks and ice and 1/6th of a second got the job done.

River water flowing past ice, Jigokudani, Japan

In February I was back in Hokkaido. Eastern Hokkaido is full of snowy hills and isolated trees which lends itself to minimalistic imagery.

Leafless Elder trees on top of a snow covered hill, Eastern Hokkaido, Japan

The main attraction off course in Eastern Hokkaido is birds and my favorite species are the Whooper Swans at Lake Kussharo. We were blessed with a number of misty mornings on the frozen lake which created fantastic atmospheric conditions.

Adult and juvenile Whooper Swans flying into land on frozen and lake with snow dusted mountains in the background, Lake Kussharo, Hokkaido, Japan

The next image might just be my favorite from the year. The key here was composition: ensuring that there was no merger between the swans and carefully using the overhanging branches as a frame in the top half of the image. There is something quintessentially Japanese about the image, almost like a Japanese painting and this is what I had in mind when I pressed the shutter. The other less artistic consideration was an ability to withstand a fair amount of pain! The temperature at the time was -20 c and I could only remove my fingers from my pocket-warmer laden mittens for about 20 seconds at a time before numbness would set in.

In June I was back again in French Polynesia for the annual Camouflage Grouper aggregation and spawning event – almost certainly the largest aggregation of reef fish globally but which (thankfully) remains largely undocumented. While I would describe myself as a decent wildlife photographer and an average landscape one, I am no more than a poor underwater photographer. Although I’ve been diving for a quarter of a century, I just haven’t put in enough hours with a camera underwater to rise above mediocrity. It hasn’t helped that for a number of years I’ve had some major sinus issues which has taken away some of the pleasure but after seeing a specialist this year (and briefly contemplating surgery), I seem to have settled on a medication combination that works. Hopefully this will mean more diving and an improvement in my underwater imagery.

This first image was taken the day after the main Grouper spawning event. What many locals don’t fully appreciate is that the Groupers aren’t the only fish species that aggregate and spawn at this location during this period. Here, large schools of Dark-Banded Fusiliers are attracted to the spawn of Yellowfin Surgeon fish. As always, there are plenty of Grey Reef Sharks in attendance and things can get pretty intense when you get enveloped by the Fusiliers with the Sharks charging into them.

Grey Reef Sharks among Dark-Banded Fusiliers, French Polynesia

On the afternoon of the main Grouper spawning event, we have discovered another location a few hundred meters away where another reef fish species, Convict Surgeonfish, spawn. This image shows them during a brief lull but I like it for the composition and the sun rays arrowing down to the reef. The scene looks peaceful enough but I can tell you, there was an absolute ripping current flowing over the reef and just hanging on, let along composing and taking an image was a major challenge.

Grey Reef Sharks among an aggregation of Convict Surgeonfish

As I wrote in my last blog post, I made three short trips to East Africa in 2013. Apologies that I am repeating some of the images from the last blog but here are a few favorites from these trips. Up first is a juvenile Spotted Hyena which gave me plenty of entertainment and my rock cams a thorough going over near to its den in the Serengeti.

Juvenile Hyena walking, close-focus, wide-angle, Serengeti, Tanzania

The use of a camera-mounted remote controlled toy buggy afforded me more flexibility and worked especially well with Lions in the Mara.

Immature male Lion, close-focus, wide-angle, Masai Mara, Kenya

Two sub-adult male lions, close-focus, wide-angle, Masai Mara, Kenya

Another Lion, this time taken with a longer lens, after a particularly heavy deluge in March.

In my last blog I described the fun I had with a family of Black-Backed Jackals in the Mara in November and this was probably the best encounter that I had with the Jackals really dishing it out to the Vultures whenever the latter tried to encroach on a Wildebeest carcass that the Jackals were feeding on.

Aerial image of Lesser Flamingos and their trails through shallow water soda lake, Lake Natron, Tanzania

In late November I went to Palau in Micronesia with celebrated photographer and all round nice guy, Tony Wu, to try and photograph spawning Bumphead Parrotfish. This was extremely challenging given the general wariness of the Bumpheads towards divers, the low visibility and the inability to use strobes (in order to minimize disturbance). I have still to process most of my images but looking through the raw files suggests that my efforts were pretty feeble especially in comparison to Tony Ironman Wu. But just to show that I did actually try, here is one image as the Bumpheads stream in, just prior to spawning.

Pre-spawning aggregation of Bumphead Parrotfish, Palau, Micronesia

I’m definitely not one for selfies but I could not resist while free diving in Jellyfish Lake in Palau. Anyway hope you enjoyed and I wish everyone a great 2014. Next up for me will be Japan. Can’t wait.

It’s been a long time since I’ve written a blog so apologies for this. For several months I was bogged down in a research project for the finance company that I work for on a part time basis. This culminated in a grueling two month global marketing trip, something that won’t be repeated again if only for the sake of my health – it really did me in and included bursting the blood vessels in one of my eyes. For three weeks I looked like a gruesome extra from a horror movie. I felt even worse for the clients who had to sit opposite me and literally look me in the eye during my endless presentations.

Anyway that’s all behind me and to be fair it hasn’t all been work as I have managed a few photographic trips over the course of the year. There’s probably enough ammunition for a number of blogs but I’m going to start with the place where I have spent more time photographing than any other over the last 15 years – East Africa. In 2013 I made three short trips there – two to Kenya and one to the central Serengeti in Tanzania. Normally my East African trips are timed to coincide with the annual Wildebeest migration but this year, partly due to work commitments, all of them fell outside of this “peak season”. The other reason is that I have pretty much given up fighting with the hordes of vehicles that now populate the Mara in August and September. Hence my trips to the Mara were in March and mid-November and to the Serengeti in May. Many would associate these “low season” trips with sub-optimal game viewing but with the right guide, local knowledge and a little luck, the low season can be every bit as rewarding as the high season. Indeed my recent Mara trip in mid-November was arguably my best ever in more than 30 such visits.

The primary reason for this was that due to a paucity of rain in the Serengeti, the Wildebeest have lingered on in the Mara far longer than normal. As a result, I spent much of my time following the herds which especially towards the end of my visit, were moving rapidly en masse in the general direction of the Mara River in and around the Lookout landmark in the south Mara. Herd numbers were as large as anything that I have seen during “peak” migration periods.

Migrating Wildebeest in S shape curve, Masai Mara, Kenya

Wildebeest at dawn in the mist, Masai Mara, Kenya

Wildebeest herd running, Masai Mara, Kenya

Wildebeest running, with motion, early morning, Masai Mara, Kenya

Wildebeest legs, in-camera multiple exposure, Masai Mara, Kenya

When I went to the Serengeti in May I bought along my rock cams (plastic casings disguised as rocks in which I place cameras and which I trigger manually from a vehicle some distance away using wireless remotes). Although the casings blend in well with the environment, they have several failings not least being their inflexibility – i.e. once down, they cannot be manoevered. Perhaps more importantly, they are prone to “attack” by some of the larger cats. Lions in particular, tend to mistake them for Leopard Tortoises, an irresistible target. The camera lens protrudes very slightly out of the casings and this usually invites copious amounts of licking. Indeed the single biggest problem I have when using the casings with large cats and especially Hyenas is excessive amounts of saliva on the front element of the lens. What often happens is that the window for decent images is literally a second or two before the lens is fogged up with saliva. I can’t tell you how many images I have similar to the following ones.

Close-up of Hyena tongue and mouth as it licks the camera lens, Seronera, Tanzania

The better solution is to use a sturdier casing (metal) that moves. My new toy is a modified remote control buggy with a metal casing for the camera. I only had limited opportunities to use this on my most recent trip (basically you have to be on your own) but the results were quite encouraging. The Lions are initially very curious – stepping on it, attempted biting and even picking it up (it’s pretty heavy) but the ability to move it around is a huge advantage. After a while they lose interest in it and this is when the best opportunities arise.

7. Young male Lion, Masai Mara, Kenya

Young male Lions, close-focus, wide-angle, Masai Mara, Kenya

Two sub-adult male lions, close-focus, wide-angle, Masai Mara, Kenya

Once fairly common in the Mara, Wild Dogs were largely wiped out in the 1980s due to disease (distemper). A few still remain, mainly around Aitong in the North Mara but these are rarely seen. Very occasionally, transitory nomads, usually on their way to the Serengeti are spotted and hence it was with some considerable excitement that we received word on the radio one morning during the recent November trip, that a small group of four had been sighted not far from us. We reached the dogs within half an hour and followed them for a good hour as they covered a considerable distance. As the sun rose higher and as temperatures increased, they settled in some bushes where we waited for seven hours hoping that they would eventually emerge and become active. Nature has a way of not co-operating and in near darkness, we left them knowing that the odds of finding them again the next morning would be incredibly slim.

Sure enough, when we returned at dawn, they were gone. We searched for another hour or two but to no avail but then late morning our radio crackled into life with information that they had been spotted about 25kms from where we had last seen them. After a long drive and a good deal of searching we eventually caught up with them as they headed in the direction of the Sand River and the Tanzanian border.

Wild dog running, with motion, Masai Mara, Kenya

Again they bedded down under the shade of an Acacia tree. This time we were completely on our own and unlike the previous day, they would periodically become active. I sent out buggy-cam for an investigative sniff around but unlike the Wild Dogs which are regularly seen in the South African and Botswana parks and which are used to humans and vehicles, these ones were quite skittish and never really came quite close enough.

Wild dogs, close-focus, wide-angle, Masai Mara, Kenya

It was also clear that if there was more than one vehicle around that they would become uncomfortable and retreat into cover as was the case late afternoon. However, as soon as the 3-4 other vehicles that had joined us left at around 6.30pm, they immediately got up with the clear intention of hunting. Although we did not see any real predation, it was wonderful to see them so active and comfortable in the close presence of our vehicle. Most encounters with Wild Dogs in Africa are in areas of heavy vegetation so to see them in the open plains was a real treat and an unforgettable experience.

Wild dog, Masai Mara, Kenya

Wild Dogs playing, Masai Mara, Kenya

One of my favorite African animals and one often overlooked by most tourists is the Jackal. The Mara supports a very healthy population of Black-Backed Jackals which in the early mornings and late afternoons are often active around their dens, especially if they have pups. We spent a good deal of time with one family and enjoyed a number of interesting and exciting encounters. The pups were particularly playful in the early mornings affording us some nice photo opportunities.

Black-Backed Jackal pups playing, Masai Mara, Kenya

In this image, shot about 30 minutes after the previous image, one of the pups closely investigates two dragonflies.

Here two of the pups are on the top of their den at dusk with the one on the right seemingly unbothered by the incessant chewing of its ear by the other.

Black-Backed Jackal pups playing on top of their den, Masai Mara, Kenya

Shortly before this image was taken, we were amazed to see one of the parents carrying an African Hare which it had recently killed. It was quite shy when we approached and we had only a fleeting opportunity for pictures before it dropped the kill, so nothing special, but as you can see, this is a pretty big Hare when viewed in the context of the adult Jackal.

Black Backed Jackal carrying African Hare, Masai Mara, Kenya

The best encounter though was early one morning when we found them on a Wildebeest carcass (probably killed by Lions). Although it was hard to isolate the Jackals, the interaction with the Vultures and the lovely backlighting was fantastic. The Jackals hate the vultures which would grow increasingly bold, edging ever closer to the carcass before being chased at high speed by the Jackals. On numerous occasions the Jackals would catch the Vultures and aggressively bite their wings. The first image represents one of the few occasions that an individual Jackal and Vulture moved away from the main group and it is one of my all time favourites. When I first saw it on the back of the camera I really regretted clipping the Vulture’s wings but now I’m not bothered. The lighting, the action, the flying dew all combine to make this (in my very humble opinion!) a really nice image.

Once they had finished terrorizing the Vultures, the Jackals spent a long time playing amongst each other.

Black-Backed Jackals playing, Masai Mara, Kenya

With so many prides of Lions around it was perhaps surprising that we didn’t spend more time with them but we still had some nice opportunities on a number of early mornings.

Male Lion backlit at sunrise, Masai Mara, Kenya

This is one of Notch’s sons, also early in the morning.

Male Lion, Masai Mara, Kenya

I love photographing in the rain and some of the images that have done best for me in competitions have been taken in rainy conditions. If it rains and you can find male Lions, stay with them because when the rain stops or eases, they will eventually shake their manes with often spectacular results.

When I head out each morning in the velvet darkness of the African bush, I usually have some rough plan for what I will concentrate on, at least initially, but I rarely set these plans in stone so that if I chance upon something I’ll often stick with that and abandon my original ideas. I’ve found over the years that operating with only a very rough plan or no plan at all works best for me. While I will sometimes invest long hours (very occasionally days) waiting for a particular species to do something, I will rarely give a second look for instance to a tree dwelling Leopard. I gave up long ago waiting for Leopards to get active especially if there are other vehicles around. I’ve got hundreds of images of Leopards sitting in trees and frankly they do nothing for me and unless one has weeks to spare (no one does), it’s just not worth investing whole days sitting beside trees waiting for them to come down. When the light is good (this includes flat, middle of the day overcast conditions), if there are no iconic subjects around, go for the less obvious as photographically they can be every bit as rewarding. Here’s a good example, shot backlit again and where I waited for the Oxpecker to fly into the frame.

Often the most common species are overlooked photographically but I’d much prefer to photograph Zebras than Leopards sitting in trees for instance. On a dreary, low cloud day in May, I spent almost two hours with a 600mm lens and a 2x converter, attempting to make tight images of Zebras concentrating entirely on the patterns of their stripes. I can’t tell you how much fun this was.

Juvenile Zebra, abstract, Serengeti, Tanzania

Different generations – Zebra patterns, abstract, Serengeti, Tanzania

Zebra patterns, abstract, Serengeti, Tanzania

This next one is a little different with an intentionally slow shutter speed used (1/10th sec) to blur the Wildebeest galloping past the static Zebras.

Wildebeest, with motion, galloping past Zebras, Masai Mara, Kenya

Impalas are a super common species and another of my favorites. This one was fleeing from a hunting Cheetah – often it’s a good idea to train your lens on the prey rather than the hunter – and what makes this image for me are the distant undulating hills. Some photographers would probably try to tell you that they specially lined up the hills in the frame but this off course is BS because when an Impala is running at 50mph across open grasslands, all you’re trying to do is keep the subject in the frame – anything more than this and the photographer is in porky pie land. My framing here is just dumb luck but I will say there is some truth to Gary Player’s old adage that “the more I practice, the luckier I get”.

Adult female Impala running across savannah, Masai Mara, Kenya

I love photographing birds so I rarely pass up a chance when I have it. Here are four straightforward images from the 2013 East Africa trips. The first is an African Wattled Plover and I wanted a tight head shot to show off its spectacular facial coloring and the interesting facial wattles and lappets (the folds of skin hanging from the face).

African Wattled Plover head shot, Masai Mara, Kenya

Next up is one of East Africa’s most common birds, the aptly named Superb Starling. Because they spend much of their time on the ground, the only way to photograph them properly is at eye level, lying on the ground.

Superb Starling, ground level view, Serengeti, Tanzania

Oxpeckers are another common species that I never tire of photographing. They spend most of their time living a symbiotic existence with Buffalo, Zebra, Impala, Rhino and Giraffe. This Yellow-Billed Oxpecker had cleverly taken refuge on a Giraffe’s leg, using the latter’s body above to shield it from rain that had begun to fall.

Yellow-Billed Oxpecker on Giraff leg, Serengeti, Tanzania

Lastly, here is a Secretary bird. Again a common species and although you hear lots of stories about them catching snakes, I’ve never actually witnessed the event, until my most recent trip. I wish I’d gone tighter on the head to see more of the snake but it happened so quickly that there was no time to change lens.

Secretary Bird with snake, Masai Mara, Kenya

In March, we spent quite a bit of time with Malaika, the female Cheetah and her then nearly fully grown male cub. Malaika is well-known as a vehicle climbing Cheetah. In recent months there’s been quite a bit of chatter on the social network pages about the behavior of vehicles/visitors/guides in the presence of Malaika. Some of these threads have been started by fairly well-known photographers and some of their observations are correct and make a lot of sense. For instance, there was a well documented case where some disinterested visitors instructed their guide to drive off while Malaika was still on their roof. This is clearly inexcusable behavior and could easily have resulted in an injury to Malaika and as we all know, any kind of injury that prevents a Cheetah from reaching top speed is a potentially fatal one. I certainly laud the conservation ethos displayed by some of the commentators, but I feel some overstep the mark with some of their suggestions/instructions. One photographer has suggested something along the lines that vehicles should not be within 50-100m of Malaika and if she walks towards a vehicle, that vehicle should immediately drive off. He went onto suggest that vehicles/guides/visitors should be named and shamed if they allow Cheetahs onto their vehicles. For me anyway this is too extreme and I think it also displays some ignorance about the history of the Mara’s vehicle climbing Cheetahs.

In the early/mid-1990s, a camp owner in the Northern Mara found a Cheetah cub near to its dead mother, killed presumably by Lions or Hyenas. Knowing that the cub would be incapable of surviving on its own, he managed to coax it into his vehicle. He subsequently hand-reared it, named it Patel and incredibly was able to teach it to hunt. He would often spend days and nights out on the open savannah with the Cheetah and it developed a habit of often sleeping on his vehicle at night. To cut a long but fascinating story short, Patel (later named Queen or Queenie) became a successful hunter and mother and its vehicle climbing antics have been passed down through subsequent generations of Cheetahs.

While I would not sanction the active solicitation by guides/visitors to entice Cheetahs to climb onto their vehicles, it is important to remember that it is always the Cheetah’s choice whether to climb onto a vehicle. And they typically do so for a reason: to spot potential prey from a higher vantage point. Since the prey do not associate vehicles with feline hunters, being atop a vehicle has the added advantage of surprise. I’ve lost count of the number of times that I’ve seen a Cheetah hunt successfully from a starting position on top of a vehicle.

While it’s a tremendous thrill to have a wild animal in such close proximity I would emphasis that it’s essential to display proper etiquette around the Cheetah. This means very slow deliberate movement; absolutely no touching and if the Cheetah decides to remain for an extended period on the vehicle (rare), then you just have to put up with it regardless of one’s interest level. I’ve had many, many Cheetahs on my vehicle over the years in the Mara starting with Queenie and I feel that I’ve always behaved responsibly around them. Anyway that’s my mini-rant over and I make no excuses for the following images.

Staying with Cheetahs but moving away from vehicles, this at first glance looks like a nasty injury but in fact it’s nothing of the sort. Rather this cub has just removed its head from the belly of a Gazelle which it has been feeding on. It even still has tufts of Gazelle fur on its nose.

As I’ve written before, my favorite type of photography in East Africa is undoubtably aerial photography. There’s nothing quite as exhilarating as flying with an open door and watching the splendours of the African landscape unfold a few hundred meters below you. And nowhere is this landscape more spectacular than over East Africa’s soda lakes. It’s not cheap and I wish I could afford the stable platform of a helicopter but the small Cessna I use is still fantastic especially with the incredibly skilled pilots that I use. I have been doing this type of photography since 2006 and probably have more than enough good images to fill a decent sized book but here are a tiny selection from my recent trips. Just to give you an idea of what it looks like from inside the plane, here is an image of my good friend and highly skilled/underrated photographer, Michael Viljoen.

A long way down

This is Lake Bogoria with Lesser Flamingos flying in formation over a huge algae slick. Someone recently pointed out to me that they see the outline of the Americas on the left, the east coast of Africa in the center and India on the right. It’s strange how you can look at an image for a long time and then someone else comes along and instantly sees something you have missed.

Logipi is a seasonal soda lake and conditions are very different every time I fly over it as a result of varying water levels. At one end of the lake lies Cathedral Rock, an ancient volcanic island, around which there are usually a few pools of water in even the driest periods and which in turn, always attract Flamingos.

Aerial image of Cathedral Rock in Lake Logipi, Kenya

The furnace-like temperatures on the surface of Lake Logipi means that evaporation rates are high and while the lake can fill quickly when there is rain in the vicinity, it disappears equally as fast. Sometimes fingers of water are formed as the water retreats and the sodium, calcium and phosphate rich waters are an ideal breeding ground for the Flamingos’ staple food source – microscopic algae species.

Aerial image of a finger of lake water on dry lake bed, Lake Logipi, Kenya

Even in the deepest areas, the water is never more than a foot or two deep and is usually clouded with a brownish silt. This silt sits above a bed of gooey black/dark blue mud. Flamingos walking across the lake bed leave black trails in the mud behind them and when large numbers move, this gives rise to interesting trail patterns and it was these that I wanted to capture in this next image.

Aerial image of Lesser Flamingos and their trails, Lake Logipi, Kenya

Aerial images of Flamingos flying are nice enough but what makes them extra special over Kenya’s soda lakes is the spectacular backgrounds in terms of the colours and patterns.

Lake Natron, on the border of Southern Kenya and Northern Tanzania contains some of the world’s truly spectacular landscapes. The Southern Ewaso Ng’iro River rises in the Mau Escarpment, empties into Lake Natron and is the major inflow into the lake. A large and expanding delta along the shoreline mud flat has been formed where the river enters the lake. In the distance, on the top left hand side, you can just make out the periodically active volcano, Ol Doinyo Lengai.

Aerial image of the Southern Ewaso Ng’iro river delta on the edge of Lake Natron, Tanzania

Slightly further inland, Wildebeest and Zebra can occasionally be seen crossing the river. This must be a fairly rare image as I haven’t seen any photos of Wildebeest and Lesser Flamingos in the same frame.

If an abstract painter was ever short of inspiration, then my strong recommendation would be an aerial trip over Lake Natron, much of which resembles the surface of another planet and where nature really does imitate art.

This sequence was taken late last year in Kenya’s Masai Mara game reserve. The pictures pretty much tell the story so I’m keeping the text to a minimum. All the images were taken with a Canon 1D MK4 and a Canon 600mm f4 IS (version 1) lens.

Mother Cheetah spots a Thomson’s Gazelle fawn in the distance.

The mother slowly approaches the Gazelle fawn being careful not be seen. She uses the cover of some bushes and tall grass to get within 60-70m of the fawn. With the fawn facing away, the Cheetah bursts out from the bush, quickly accelerating.

The fawn spots the Cheetah too late and after the briefest of chases, she is tripped by the Cheetah who immediately is at its throat. But instead of dispatching the fawn, the Cheetah picks it up by its throat and carries it back to where its three young cubs are waiting nearby.

The mother then lets the fawn go and the cubs chase after it. They quickly catch up, trip it and pin the fawn down with their paws. However, they do not yet know how to kill it. So after a short while they release their grip and the terrified fawn bounds off again. This process goes on for the next fifteen minutes and follows the exact same pattern each time. It is very hard not to feel for the poor fawn and the whole encounter appears to reek of cruelty, but you have to keep reminding yourself that this exercise is a vital part of the Cheetah cubs’ training. Within 12-16 months, the mother will abandon the cubs and if they cannot hunt for themselves, then they have no chance of survival. I try to also console myself with the knowledge that while Gazelles are abundant in Africa, Cheetahs are endangered with just 12,000 left in the wild.

After patiently monitoring the whole episode from a distance, the mother eventually decides that enough is enough and jogs after the fawn, by now visibly slower after the mauling it has taken from the cubs. The end is mercifully quick and she carries the fawn back to the cubs. One small fawn between four Cheetahs amounts to no more than a light snack and the cubs are now at a size where the mother is being required to hunt every day.

After their brief meal, one of the cubs, its face flecked with blood from the meal, stands with its mother framing it nicely in the background.

In February (it seems like only yesterday), I made my fifth visit to Eastern Hokkaido’s winter wonderland. I have written before at length about my love affair with Japan, so I won’t bore you by going over old ground but if you haven’t been to Japan and especially to Hokkaido in winter (and I don’t mean Niseko), take my word for it and go!

Although only an eight day trip, photographic opportunities were excellent especially at my favorite location, Lake Kussharo, where the swan photography was the best I have seen.

The only negative for me on the trip was that while we did experience a wide variety of weather conditions, we probably had a little too much sun for my liking which made for challenging photo conditions in the middle of the day. The upside of course is that we had some really nice early morning and late afternoon light. Better still, we had three mornings of dazzlingly beautiful, hoar frost-covered trees.

Lake Kussharo is a large lake. While there are one or two well-known photographic sites to which photographers congregate, there are several other lesser known spots which you usually have to yourself and it is to these that I gravitate.

The first three images in this set were taken early in the morning, before sunrise when most of the swans in this group were either still sleeping or were relatively sedentary. The final image was made after the swans had fully woken up and had become more active. The key to all these images was correct composition with the swans framed by the overhanging frost/snow covered branches and importantly, no merging of the branches with the horizon and no or minimal merging of the swans. The mood was also important and I’ve deliberately retained the blue caste in the three colour images to given a sense of both the peace and tranquillity as well as the cold. By far and away the hardest part of photographing in Hokkaido in winter is the cold. I wear one pair of thin gloves over which I have a pair of retractable mittens with the pockets stuffed full of hand warmers. After more than about 30 seconds with my digits out of the mittens, they start to freeze up and become numb and painful which also makes it close to impossible to operate the camera’s controls. So I find myself regularly having to stuff my fingers back into the warmth of the hand warmer-encrusted mittens to revive circulation.

The next two photos were taken at another secret spot where in five years I have never encountered a single other photographer. Incredibly, these two photos were taken within an hour of each other. The weather can change suddenly in these parts and after a nice sunset, clouds rapidly rolled in and heavy snow began falling.

The following images were shot at a slightly more popular site but one that you can still often have to yourself. The first image is probably my favourite from the trip, shot with a bendy 8-15mm fisheye lens. I really wanted to get the hoar frost-covered branches into image with the swans. I tried my 16-35mm lens but it wasn’t wide enough. While there was no way to avoid having the branches merging with the snow covered mountains, I still like the way the branches frame the birds.

If you go to Lake Kussharo you will definitely spend time at the main swan area. The swans gather at this spot because they are fed grain twice a day. It can be particularly rewarding early in the morning when the swans fly in over distant trees, which sometimes as in this first image, are covered with hoar frost, before banking against a backdrop of snow covered mountains, and landing on the frozen lake. What’s missing from these images is the sound of the birds’ trumpet like calls piercing the cold air. Almost immediately upon landing, the birds will throw back their heads and call raucously. When several land at the same time, the winter silence is broken with the sounds reverberating around the lake. I’ve stood on top of some of the adjacent mountains on a windless day and have been able to pick up the sounds several miles away.

It would be remiss on a trip to Hokkaido to ignore the stark but often beautiful landscapes. While I am not an advocate of copying or emulating other photographers’ styles, it is very hard not to be influenced by Michael Kenna’s haunting, minimalistic landscape images taken in the depths of the Hokkaido winter.

I find myself especially drawn to solitary trees or small groups of trees on snow-covered ridges and after some exploratory snow-shoeing (easy and highly recommended if you have not tried), I found one such area. Here, multiple Wildencounters participant, Paul Quah, pauses as he snow-shoes through the area’s snow covered slopes.

I’ve always been attracted to minimalistic type photography so these lonely trees were especially appealing to me. This small selection of images may not be for everyone, but I definitely plan on doing more of this type of photography in the future. Already I have some good ideas on how to be more creative when I return.

This year I didn’t spend as much time as previously with the Cranes, in part because it was so good at the swans but also because we had a lot of sunny days when we were with the Cranes. However, there were still some nice opportunities. I didn’t plan on getting the Crane heads into the first image but it really helps to add additional interest as this White-Tailed Eagle swoops over them.

Since there are already a gazillion flying Crane images out there, I end up spending most of time using slow shutter speeds, usually panning with the bird. Given my preference for retaining some sharpness in the bird’s heads, you need to take a lot of images to get one decent one but when you do get something worthwhile, the results, in my opinion are much more pleasing than a static flying bird image.

Owing to the uncooperative weather while at the main Crane sites, I spent very little time trying to capture the courting Crane dances. And when I did capture some spectacular action, the background was not behaving! A shame, because this is about as good as it gets action-wise.

In Africa I sometimes have to hang around for hours or even days waiting for something to happen, but in Hokkaido, especially if the weather is co-operating, you can shoot almost non-stop from dawn to dusk and even at night. The images shown in this blog represent just a tiny selection of the images that I made during my eight day stay.

When you throw in the wonderful food, the amazing hot springs to soak in at the end of a day out in the cold and the warm hospitality that I always receive, Hokkaido has become one of my favourite photo destinations and I always look forward to going back. So I will be back next year, co-leading a larger group (this year I took only three persons). Already I am counting down the days.

As promised, here is another set of East African aerials. These were all taken over Lake Natron just across the Kenyan border in Tanzania. I have flown many times over Natron and it has to be one of the world’s most surreal landscapes often resembling the surface of another planet. Usually there is only a little water on the lake with large patches devoid of any moisture, the result of evaporation under furnace like temperatures. This leaves behind a lake bed comprising a brittle crust of various sodium compounds overlaying thick, gooey mud.

The last two years have seen abnormally high rainfall in most of East Africa with water levels on Natron at high levels. A lack of algae concentrations caused by the high water has meant reduced Flamingo numbers. However, even after just a few days without rain, the evaporation process had begun in earnest with dramatic trails of sodium compounds on the lake surface.

Anyway, i’ll stop my naturalist waffle and let you enjoy the images. Most of them probably won’t have much sale value, but I like them and I guess that’s what matters!

In July and September last year I made two trips to Kenya’s Masai Mara but at the beginning of each I spent several hours in the air shooting images from a light aircraft with the doors removed on one side. It is an activity I have been doing annually since 2006 and to put it mildly, it is extremely addictive. I have written about this before so I’ll skip the details but it is not until you have spent many hours flying low over the ground that you get a true appreciation of how incredibly diverse Kenya’s geography is. For a country of its size, it is surely unmatched in its environmental diversity. While there are abundant attractions on its short grass savannahs, its tropical rain forests and reefs, its high alpine meadows and glaciers (yes – on Mt.Kenya), it is the splendours of the Great Rift Valley that for me trump everything else at least when viewed from the air. And within the Rift Valley, it is the many soda lakes that are arguably its most beguiling of features.

These lakes are periodically home to hundreds of thousands and sometimes millions of predominantly Lesser Flamingos with smaller numbers of Great Flamingos also in attendance. The environment in an around some of these lakes is oppressively hostile with furnace like temperatures and waters that are often so caustic as to cause severe skin burns to human flesh. Yet somehow, microscopic algae species manage to thrive and multiple in the carbonate and phosphate-rich waters and it is this aquatic plant that forms the staple food source of the flamingos.

The algae is often concentrated into enormous slicks and while usually green in colour, on occasion, more spectacular colours form. As we approached Lake Bogoria, I could tell from a distance that something unusual was going on with large swathes of the lake green in colour vs the usual blue and light brown waters (where rivers enter the lake – high rainfall levels have this year turned much of the lake a coffee colour). As we got closer, the green algae slicks took on a paint-like, ephemeral appearance.

Heading north, we passed over lake Boringo before heading down the Seguta Valley with its spectacular ancient volcanic features. At the end of the valley lies a seasonal, soda lake, Lake Logipi which when filled with shallow water, is almost always home to huge congregations of flamingos. This year was no exception.

This year I again had two highly commended images in the prestigious Nature’s Best wildlife photo contest. The first image which was highly commended in the endangered species category, was taken on Midway Atoll in the North West Pacific on a day of pouring rain. I was completely alone the whole day; my fellow travellers preferring the shelter of the converted naval barracks that serve as accommodation on the island. But if you look at my four commended images from the last two years, three of them have been taken in the rain. So the lesson is pretty obvious. In order to get eye to eye with the birds I needed to lie prone on the ground. I found I could lie on my right side for longer durations, using the vertical grip shutter and holding the foot of the lens collar with my left hand. I was moving around amongst the birds quite a bit and in such situations I find a tripod too restrictive, hence my preference for hand holding. The other advantage of lying on the ground is that it allowed for the pleasing out of focus, dark green background which in turn helped bring out the falling rain. The final ingredient was the use of a little fill flash to emphasis the rain drops on the birds. I was constantly making small adjustments to my position in order to keep the birds as parallel to my camera as possible but I still needed a relatively small aperture to ensure some decent depth of field and this in turn required the use of a high ISO. The rest was down to patience as I waited for the birds to come together and affectionately nuzzle each other. Finally was a willingness to tolerate a thorough soaking. Albatross pairs mate for life but only come together for a few weeks of the year (every second year for some species). The affection they display towards each other is clear to see and this is what I wanted to capture with this image.

The second image which was highly commended in the African Wildlife category, was also taken in the rain but in a very different geography, this time on the other side of the world in Kenya’s Masai Mara game reserve. When I first found this male it was mid-afternoon and he was sleeping under the shade of an acacia tree. For the next three and half hours that’s all he did. Then at about six thirty as the light was fading and the rain falling, a Lioness appeared on a nearby ridge. The Male rose to his feet roaring several times. The Lioness didn’t hang around and quickly disappeared. Three and a half hours of waiting for less than half a minute of activity. That’s pretty much the story of wildlife photography.

In mid-October I returned to the Southern Ocean for a special extended trip to South Georgia. If you were to ask several seasoned, wildlife photo pros to name their favorite wildlife destination on our planet, chances are that a large number would have South Georgia at the top of their list. The extreme remoteness of its location means that it receives few visitors each year and save for a handful of British Antarctic Survey staff, it is uninhabited. As a result it remains in pristine condition, teeming with an extraordinary collection of wildlife and containing, amongst others, the world’s largest colonies of King Penguins and Elephant Seals, all set against a majestic backdrop of tumbling glaciers and snowcapped mountains. In many other wildlife destinations that I have journeyed to, large amounts of patience are required as you wait for the wildlife to actually do something. In South Georgia, the opposite is true. Indeed, one is often surrounded by so much wildlife and activity that it can be overwhelming at times. On some sites, the density of wildlife is so great that photography actually becomes quite challenging – framing and composing become difficult and you end up having to work hard to find clean lines and separation between the birds and animals. No one however, leaves South Georgia disappointed and it remains one of those rare locations where wildlife numbers are actually increasing. The contrast between my home in Asia, where almost every species is in decline, couldn’t be greater.

As usual, I kept no diary or even notes from the trip but I took plenty of photographic images, processing and labeling many along the way. Most non serious photographers take pictures in large because by freezing a moment in time, they help preserve memories and this is probably the most compelling feature of photography. I certainly don’t have the greatest powers of recollection but I would estimate that nearly 100% of the time, I could look at any of the decent image that I have taken over the last 10-12 years and instantly tell you when and where it was taken and most importantly, the story behind the image. So for me as well, viewing my own images helps to bring back memories and since I’m pretty much always a happy camper when I’m out photographing, even in climatic extremes, these memories almost always tend to be good ones.

After arriving in Santiago, Chile via Auckland, New Zealand (journey time from Hong Kong including seven hours at Auckland airport = 35 hours), I was fortunate to be able to join celebrated bird photographer and hands down the world’s best photographic teacher, Arthur Morris (www.birdsasart.com) for a morning of photography, an hour from Santiago near the coastal town of Vina Del Mar. Also joining us were super creative pro photographer, Denise Ippolito (www.densieippolito.com) and mega talented photographer, Clemens Vanderwerf (www.clemensvanderwerf.com).We were very generously hosted by Chile’s finest bird photographer, Osvaldo Larrain (www.osvaldolarrain.com).

Despite the dreary weather, we had good opportunities with Sea Lions, Pelicans and Aztec Terns.

The next day we flew to the Falkland Islands where we boarded our ship for the four day voyage to South Georgia. As usual at these latitudes, the ship was followed by a constant procession of seabirds, including a number of Albatross and Petrel species. While it is relatively easy to take fast shutter speed images of the birds in flight behind and alongside the ship, I set myself the task of improving on the slow shutter speed images that I made last year, concentrating on the swift and erratically flying Cape Petrels. After hundreds of efforts, I eventually produced this image, one of my all-time avian image favorites, with the feather details bought to life by the use of rear curtain sync, fill flash.

At midday on our fourth day at sea, the distant outline of the north east shore of South Georgia began to take shape through the mist. By mid-afternoon we were in the zodiacs headed for shore at Elsehul. This is a site that is usually inaccessible due to hyper aggressive Fur Seals but being extremely early in the season, they were not so territorial and we were afforded a safe passage across the beach. After a short but difficult climb up through uneven tussock grass and mud covered terrain, we emerged onto the edge of steep cliffs below which nested Grey-Headed and Light Mantled Sooty Albatrosses. It was difficult to get decent images of the nesting birds as you were generally shooting straight down on them meaning that the best opportunities were of the birds in flight. I wish I had done better with the Grey-Heads as they are a phenomenally beautiful bird with their yellow and red bills.

Close to the landing site at the top of the beach, resided a large colony of Gentoo Penguins, many of whom were sitting on eggs. Those that were not, were largely engaged in nest building activities. From time to time, the Gentoos would throw back their heads and call loudly to their partners.

Overnight, we made the short passage along the north coast to Right Whale Bay. When I landed here last year, it was, to be frank, disappointing; essentially a bunch of King Penguins in a muddy gravel pit. But in arriving six weeks earlier this year, the valley and surrounding mountains were covered in snow and ice. The contrast couldn’t have been greater and this was definitely a venue for shorter lenses so that the Penguins could be shown against the magnificence of the towering snowy peaks.

Back on the ship for lunch, we made a short repositioning to Prion Island. Here the main attractions are Wandering Albatrosses with juveniles on nests readily visible. A boardwalk was constructed that leads from the beach up to the nesting sites a few years ago. While this now makes the upward traverse quite simple, it does mean that your movements are restricted to the boardwalk, preventing the dramatic, close-up images of the birds with outstretched wings overlooking the sea and distant mountains, made famous by Frans Lanting.

However, back on the beach, I did manage to make this image of an adult male Elephant Seal (aka, the beach master) “cuddling” a female. As you can see, the size difference is quite extraordinary while the scarring on the male is the result of the endless battles he must fight to protect his harem of females from rival males.

The next morning we found ourselves further down the north east coast, at Fortuna Bay, a beautiful glaciated valley fronted by a well-protected Bay. This was a productive site image wise for me last year. This year with snow covering much of the ground and overcast skies eliminating any harsh shadows, conditions were close to perfect for photography.

At one end of the site there is an open plain adjacent to a glacier below which lies a large King Penguin colony, populated at this time of the year by sizeable numbers of “Oakum boys”, the nickname given to the fluffy brown, juvenile King Penguins. As they huddled together for warmth, adult Kings would occasional venture into the group to seek out and feed their youngsters. I had previsualised the second image shown here, with the colorful splash of the adult’s head and neck feathers contrasting with the uniform browns of the juveniles.

After some early morning zodiac cruising around Ocean Harbor (in reality a sizeable bay), on one side of which sits the wreck of the iron hulled three-masted barque, Bayard, now home to a colony of some 80 South Georgia Shags, we moved down the coast to Cumberland Bay to anchor at Grytviken, the largest of South Georgia’s ancient whaling stations and home to the Island’s only few inhabitants. Much of the old whaling station is open to visitors and like last year, I took some funky HDR images. The new Canon pro bodies, the 1DX and 5D MK 3 feature both in-camera HDR as well as multiple frame exposure capabilities. A big thanks to Denise Ippolito for showing me how to work these (as it turns out, they are extremely simple to use). The following image is a three frame, in-camera image of rusting paint on an old ship with the camera being moved horizontally, vertically and then diagonally during each of the respective frames. Pretty cool eh?

Those of you who have read my blog from last year’s South Georgia trip will know the reverence that most attach to Saint Andrews Bay, which is often regarded as the jewel in South Georgia’s crown. It is unquestionably one of our planet’s truly great wildlife sites, being home to the world’s largest King Penguin colony where up to 160,000 adult pairs gather with at least an additional 50,000 juveniles. It is also home to South Georgia’s largest breeding population of Elephant Seals with our arrival being timed to coincide with peak breeding numbers of 6,000. So thick was the beach and shoreline with these blubbery, submarine sized creatures that passage across large sections of the beach was impossible. But it is not just the animals, it is also the setting. The following stitched panoramic image only does a tiny amount of justice (and the small jpg is doing no favours either) to the incredible vista that lies spread out in front of you once you have climbed a small ridge set back a little distance from the beach.

This image was taken in the middle of the day when the sun had long disappeared to be replaced by low hanging cloud and intermittent sleet. But early in the morning when I first landed, a low sun was out, the air was crisp and clear and a throng of Kings came down to the water’s edge to greet us. The last image in this series featured a moment of serendipity with a large flock of Shags flying towards and over me.

Elephant Seal and King Penguins on the shore line with Imperial Shags flying in the sky, Saint Andrews Bay, South Georgia, same equipment as previous, 1/125th sec, f13, ISO 400, manual exposure

At midday I was up on the ridge that overlooks the bay. Before taking the earlier panoramic image, we had two adult Kings standing nicely on the ridge line overlooking the colony of Oakum boys and adults. I was sitting down a few feet from these two when two more adults walked into the frame.

I then moved a little further down the ridge to where a some of the juvenile Oakum boys were interacting with adults. I needed to keep some distance from the birds so as not to disturb them. At the same time, the juveniles would harass their parents for food and hence both parent and offspring were in a constant state of motion. In these situations, a tripod just slows you down so this next image was made with the new Canon 600mm lens resting on my knee.

I was told by one of my fellow travelers that a long way back from the beach on one side of the bay, were a series of glacial melt lakes on which one could sometimes find Penguins. So I walked for 30-40 minutes until I reached the lakes only to find there were no Penguins near the water. However, there were several Antarctic Skuas, all engaged in vigorous bathing activity. The birds would duck their heads under the water at high speed, pause and then rise up in the water to flap their wings.

Later on while I was down towards the beach photographing a large group of King Penguins huddled together, I had another go at shooting multiple in-camera frames, again moving the camera a little for each image.

Back on the beach, the sheer density of Elephant Seals made movement difficult but I wasn’t the only one whose progress was being impeded by these goliaths. King Penguins returning from sea would often find their route back to the colony and their youngsters blocked and would have to gingerly pick their way through the seals, often being forced to make major detours. The breaking wave and spray are what makes this next image really work.

Another fabulous day came to an abrupt end when the captain of our ship deemed that the swell around the bay was getting to the point of making boarding the ship from the zodiacs dangerous.

Overnight we sailed further south to the southeast corner of the island and into the spectacular Drygalski fjord. Later we made a short zodiac cruise in Larsen harbor. The following image was made as we were cruising out of the fjord.

From there we rounded Cape Disappointment and proceeded up the south west coast of South Georgia. Few vessels venture to this side of the island, being much more exposed to the prevailing winds, but the scenery is wild and spectacular. Our ship was again trailed by large numbers of birds. Here, two Light Mantled Sooty Albatrosses glide alongside the ship as high winds whip by. Foreboding though the weather conditions may seem, these are perfect conditions for Albatrosses which spend most of their lives on the wing out at sea.

Two Light Mantled Sooty Albatrosses flying over stormy seas with the south west coast of South Georgia in the background, Canon 1D MK4, Canon 300mm f2.8 IS lens, handheld, 1,1250th sec, f8, manual exposure

We had hoped to make one or two landings on the west side of the island but unfavourable weather conditions made this impossible. Instead, having circumnavigated the island, we continued along the north coast to one of South Georgia’s gems, Salisbury Plain. Rather than going straight to the main bay, we went first to one of the smaller bays, Salisbury Plain Ample Bay. After a short hike up from the beach, we emerged onto a snow covered plateau surrounded by mountains with decent numbers of King Penguins and female Elephant seals.

At some point during mid-morning, the weather closed in and it began to snow, with brief blizzard like conditions. The King Penguin groups huddled together, facing away from the snow flurries.

Towards the end of the landing, I spent nearly an hour with a group of extremely playful female Cape Fur Seals. Making the following image of two females rising up in the air before coming together was not easy as a great deal of persistence was needed to get just one image where their bodies and head were both symmetrical and parallel to my camera.

Over lunch the ship made a short repositioning to the more well known, Salisbury Plain, landing site. This is is home to 60,000 breeding pairs of King Penguins, huge numbers of juvenile Kings and one of the largest Elephant Seal populations on South Georgia. I spent most of my time on the beach, initially focusing on tight, close-up images of the colouration on the heads and neck of adult King Penguins…

…before moving on to close-focus, wide-angle images of the Penguins, Elephant Seals and Cape Fur Seals. In these images, an angle finder proved invaluable. This is a small, vertical view finder that attaches to the camera’s own view finder which allows you to get the camera and lens right down on the ground but without killing your neck in the process.

Overnight we sailed down the coast, repositioning at Cooper Bay which is often an elusive site due to aggressive Fur Seals and high swells at the beach landing site. The main attraction here is a colony of Macaroni Penguins, viewable among the tussock grass but only after a steep hike up from the beach. Normally this involves scrambling up a muddy cliff but when we awoke in the morning, heavy snow had fallen overnight and continued to fall throughout the duration of the landing.

While there were some good opportunities with the Macaronis as shown here with this one calling in the snow, I spent much of my time concentrating on other avian species.

In the above image I deliberately chose a relatively slow shutter speed to ensure some motion would be visible in the wings while also allowing for some streaking of the falling snow flakes. In the following image I switched back to a faster shutter speed as the Albatrosses rarely flap their wings, instead relying on their supreme gliding capabilities.

Towards the end of the landing, we had a lot of fun with waves of Gentoo Penguins returning from fishing trips out at sea which then had to make their way up steep, snow covered slopes to get back to their colonies. In this next image, the prime attraction is the raised orange foot.

Back on the ship, we made the short sail to Gold Harbour. When we landed, we found the beach thick with Elephant Seals which although restricting our movements, provided plenty of photographic opportunities. As rain and sleet fell, steam rose up from the seals, amplifying the already misty conditions. Once again, I was particularly attracted to the difficulties that the Penguins, in this case Gentoos, were having in trying to thread their way through the near impassable blockade created by the densely packed Seals.

Later we had opportunities with the Gentoos as they surfed in on the waves to the beach. This is not as easy as it looks as the Penguins remain submerged below the waves until the very last second making tracking them through a long lens extremely difficult.

Overnight we sailed all the way back to the top of the island for a planned landing at Godthul. I boarded the zodiac in heavy rain, which had intensified even further by the time I landed. I stood on the beach for about a minute, quickly deducing that the wildlife opportunities appeared limited while I didn’t want to give my already soaked camera gear another drenching. So I hopped back on the zodiac and went straight back to the ship.

In the afternoon, we had time for one last landing on South Georgia, again at Right Whale Bay. Even in the space of two weeks, large portions of the snow and ice which we had earlier encountered at this site had melted, reducing the scenic attractiveness. I again made good use of the angle finder to produce this image of a group of extremely curious King Penguins. So curious were they that I regularly had to back up to include all of them in the frame.

Once back on the ship, we immediately set sail for the Falkland Islands. By southern Ocean standards, conditions during the 3.5 day crossing were relatively benign. On the morning of the fourth day we found ourselves anchored in the sheltered confines of a wide bay at Sealion Island in the southern Falklands.

There is a large variety of wildlife on Sealion Island but probably most prized is the large colony of Rockhopper Penguins. The problem is that to reach them requires a 6km hike either way, much of it uphill on the way there. Without a large assortment of heavy camera equipment to carry, this would be a comfortable stroll but weighed down as I was, the last parts of each “walk” were quite strenuous. As it turned out, I didn’t make any images of Rockhoppers that I really liked and ended up spending more time with the Striated Caracaras, the closest equivalent to the Vultures of the plains of East Africa.

Before we reboarded the ship we were able to have another go at surfing Gentoo Penguins. This time I tried for something different, slowing the shutter speed right down to capture the motion of the breaking surf with a splash of colour provided by the Gentoo’s colourful bill.

One of the main reasons I signed up for this trip so long ago was the inclusion of a full day landing on remote Steeple Jason Island, located on the extreme north west of the Falkland Islands and part of the Jason Island group. With its twin pinnacles, it is a dramatic island and fully exposed to the elements. While the environment is hostile to man, the high winds that slam into the island make it a perfect destination for Albatrosses and it is no coincidence that it is the largest breeding ground for Black-Browed Albatrosses with 220,000 breeding pairs along its three miles of coastline.

To reach the birds is no easy task with a steep hike up from a rocky landing site before one is greeted by head high tussock grass, often unsurpassable. The density of birds, most of them sitting on mud-sculptured nests, is incredible and is accompanied by a wall of shrill like whistles, grunts and screams overlain with distinctive bill clapping.

The Black-Browed Albatrosses are beautiful birds with a cover girl appearance – their feathers appear almost air-brushed, their eyes and brows seemingly the work of a make-up artist and their flesh coloured bills tapering to a gorgeous reddish hue at the tip.

In the early afternoon it began to pour with rain. This sent the nesting birds into a frenzy of activity as they took advantage of the more pliable mud to shore up and further sculpt their nests. It also provided opportunities for more in-camera multiple exposures.

Dotted around the colony were the ubiquitous Caracaras, on the lookout for exposed Albatross eggs and once these hatch, for unattended chicks. Despite their unappealing scavenging tactics, it was hard not to feel just a little sympathy as they shivered in the falling rain.

While my Gortex clothing did a decent job of keeping me dry, my thin gloves were thoroughly soaked and my hands grew increasingly cold and numb. By mid-afternoon it was time to call it a day and so I headed back to the ship, a hot shower beckoning. Before that though, there were some good opportunities with Giant Petrels around the ship as they took off and landed on the ocean surface. In this image, I again made use of a slowish shutter speed – fast enough to keep the head sharp but slow enough to blur the bird’s pumping feet.

For our last day in the Falklands, we sailed down to New Island in the western Falklands. We started off at the north side of the island where a Black-Browed Albatross colony is perched on a dramatic cliffed landscape a half mile from the landing site. There was plenty of opportunities for images of the Albatrosses interacting with each other although getting decent head angles was much more challanging.

At midday we made a 20 minute zodiac ride across a wide bay to South Harbour and the nearby Settlement Rookery. We again encountered Black-Browed Albatrosses along the cliffs as well as Rockhopper Penguins but the main attraction was the endless streams of inbound Imperial Shags in flight carrying nesting material in their bills.

Back on the ship we immediately set sail for Ushuaia at the very southern end of Argentina, in order to beat a fast approaching storm. Although the last 24 hours saw us encounter gale force winds and huge seas, the passage felt relatively smooth with the ship facing almost directly into the wind and waves thereby avoiding any severe rolling motion. Not far from the entrance to the shelter of the Beagle Channel, we encountered a fishing vessel surrounded by what seemed like hundreds, possibly even thousands of sea birds. As we sailed by they switched their attention to us and for the next hour or two we had a huge procession of birds flying behind the stern of the ship. I again tried for something a little different photographic wise, shooting at just 1/20th of a second. Somehow, I managed to get the ocean relatively sharp while capturing the motion of the birds. With the scence almost monochromatic, a black & white conversion was an obvious choice.

A few hours after this image was taken we entered the calmer waters of the Beagle Channel from where we made our way to the port of Ushuaia, disembarking the next morning. All in all it had been a tremendous trip; one that will forever remain lodged in my memory. I made a number of good friends on the trip and the ship’s crew and expedition staff were exemplary. While it may be a few more years before I return to the wonders of the Southern Ocean, this is a destination that will surely pull me back again.